


Unauthorized Biographies

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Series: Neasa Adaar [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, help me make it to release writing prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2173143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: The inquisitor has lost something embarrassing and is trying to find it without alerting everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unauthorized Biographies

Adaar frantically overturns cushions in her wake, lifting furniture with one hand and peering underneath to search every possible nook and cranny. Not even dust bunnies are to be found, the housekeepers far too vigilant to allow such intruders.

“Where is it, where _is_ it…” she hisses under her breath, pacing down yet _another_ corridor (and she can’t even admit how painfully, hopelessly _lost_ she still gets in this vast hold. At least her advisors mistake her odd disappearances, ‘investigating’ broom closets and spare pantries, as _diligence_ rather than sheer confusion) and trying to think where she last saw it _._ She was reading in bed, tucked it into her satchel on the way to that meeting with Lord Feather _-_ hat or whatever his name is. The monstrous plumes on that ridiculous felt cap made a much larger impression on her than the man himself. And she _needs_ her journal because she takes _notes_ in there and if she can look up his _name_ she’ll _remember_ it and actually act like the _leader_ people think she’s supposed to be instead of stammering and blushing when Josephine inevitably asks her opinion about that discussion—

“Greetings, Lady Inquisitor. Searching for yet another unsuspecting privy or third-tier guest room?”

She stops abruptly, grateful that her skin’s dark hue masks her blush. Varric just grins at her, eyes gleaming brighter than the gold chain against his chest. He (alone, she prays) of her companions recognizes her utter ineptitude with navigation.

“Just looking for a book I misplaced,” she murmurs, as always fighting the instinct to slouch closer to his height.

He laughs, a rich sound like ale tickling the back of her throat. “Would that be a certain lady’s journal?” The slim, leather-bound volume dangles from Varric’s finger-tips as he casually flicks it, slicing the air in a pendulum-swing.

“Oh!” She leans forward, clutching her knees and chuckling with relief. “Thank you for finding it!” Extending one hand expectantly, she falters when he does not immediately drop it into her palm. “May I have it back, then?”

“I don’t know, Inquisitor,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow and tapping his foot in mock concentration. “Unauthorized biographies have such a market, _particularly_ if a certain love interest were to discover specific passages—“

Her jaw drops. “Varric, you _monster_.”

His scimitar-grin broadens and he raises his spare hand to his forehead with a lusty sigh, feigning a swoon. “You are a woman of exotic tastes, milady.”

“I have a weak will,” she moans, sinking to her knees and clutching her face in mortification.

“From what Bull says, you have a rather strong won’t.”

“Varric, _please_. Just give me back my journal.” Her voice is barely audible even to herself, muffled by her cheeks mashing against her teeth.

“Who am I to deny a lovely woman? Even if she is too tall for me.” Winking, he pries her hand free, pressing the book into her suddenly limp fingers. “You should have seen your _face_ , Adaar. I didn’t even read it. Doesn’t take blood magic to know you have a thing for—“

She flees before Varric can finish that sentence.


End file.
